In the same of grief...

In the spring of 2009, on a day when I was particularly overcome with grief and sadness, I took two little twin boy figurines, and out of morbid curiosity, I posed them together, and took their picture.  I was wondering at that time, what it would be like to pose my twin sons together for photos, since I hadn't done so since they were just a few days old, and the opportunity would never arise again.  And though it felt somewhat strange to be taking portaits of these little statues, the resulting photos were both sad, and sweet and symbolic, and I've become quite attached to the images.  They're comforting.

How it is:


How I wish it was:


What are some things you've done, in the name of grief, that seemed strange or morbid, but actually brought you some peace and comfort?

Katie

Still at it!

It's been a while since I had a chance to update here, but we're still hard at work gearing up to start this new venture! We have a good friend working on a logo for our bags/packages, and we're still reaching out to friends and family, and asking them to spread the word about our needs, so we can get the ball rolling and start making and distributing packages in the near future!

If you're reading this, please spread the word, post a link to our blog on your blog or facebook page and help us spread the word!

Thanks

Katie

Where the heart is...

The Bible says (Luke 12:34), where your treasure is, there your heart will be also, and it's true. We pour our heart and soul into the people and things and causes we hold dear, the things we treasure. You can tell a lot about a person, and what they value, by their actions and efforts. When we care about something, with devotion and we're truly invested, it shows.

I'm invested in helping grieving parents.

I care about helping them honor their child, or children, and helping them come to terms with their loss.

I'm dedicated to supporting them in anyway I can.

I'm devoted to Everett, to his life as well as his memory, his legacy.

He is my treasure, and my heart is tied to him.

I hope my efforts to upstart this new venture truly illustrate the above, and I hope you will help me make this a reality. We're still in the baby stage, the planning and figuring it out stage, but hopefully not for long.

Please help me spread the word, tell your friends and family about our mission.

If you want to help, ask me how.

If you've got questions, just let me know. You can contact me at forgrievinghearts@hotmail.ca

Katie

A post from my grief blog...

For those who may be interested in reading it, I posted tonight on my first trip back to Sick Kids Hospital since Everett died, you can read it here.

Katie

This is my son....

And so is this...


And this...


And this...


And this...

And this...


And this...




And also this...

First he was a baby, warm and sweet and new and wonderful...

Then he was a sick baby, warm and sweet and new, and sad and worrisome and wonderful...

Then he was a very sick baby, sweet, new, wonderful, and wilting...

Then he was a dying baby, wonderful, sad, sweet, leaving...

Then he was gone.

Then he was a wooden chest.

Then he was a bracelet with his name on it.

Then he was a cast of our hands, and of his foot.

Then he was a tattoo.

Then he was a picture on our wall, an ornament on our tree.

Then he was a star in the sky, and a prayer for peace.

Then he was a precious memory.

He remains my son, my baby, wonderful.

This is how it is for us, and for so many parents who thought they were bringing a baby home, and instead they have things. These things, a collection of random items, that bear their baby's image, name or footprints, or these things their baby slept with, touched, or wore, they take on a life of their own when the baby is gone and they are all that remain. They become a million times more important than any other hat or blanket or picture. They become priceless representations of a child they wanted so dearly but can no longer see or hold or touch. These things, they stand in for the baby when grief grips those parents so hard they need something to turn to, something to look at, hold, or touch. These things are irreplacable and invaluable to the grief process, as well as the healing process.

And my goal now, is to give parents momentos, things, gifts, to have and to hold when their arms are calling for their baby, or babies, and they need something to show for the love that they have and the loss that they feel. A picture frame, a footprint, a picture, a stuffed toy, a knit hat, a soft blanket, all so precious because they belonged to their baby, if only for a moment.

Katie

My Cherry Tree Anaology....

Here is another repost for you all to read, from my grief blog, because I like re-reading it, it brings me comfort, and maybe it will comfort you as well:

My Cherry Tree

There's a tree in my front yard, that is so amazingly beautiful, I think I would have bought my house based on that tree alone. I've been waiting and waiting for this tree to finally bloom, spring has come to all the rest but our tree has been holding out. But in the last few days, it finally has come to life and its amazing. At this moment, as I type, I keep looking over my shoulder out the window to admire the cloud of deep pink flowers it has become. It smells great too, the breeze keeps carrying in wafts of its gorgeous flowery smell to me, I love this tree, a lot. But, its a cherry tree, and like all cherry trees, this period of incredibly beauty is very brief. Soon, the flowers will wilt and the petals will fall to the ground and the for the rest of the year my amazing tree is just a tree, with dark leaves and kinky, winding branches. It buds, it flowers, it becomes captivating and beautiful, then its beauty fades away. Such is life right? Precisely.

My cherry tree inspired me when it came time to get a tattoo to memorialize Everett. We had felt very strongly that getting tattoos for him was something we needed to do, to make him present always, and to keep him and his precious little life always in the front of our memories. But, how would we personalize these tattoos, to make them really relevant and convey just how much Everett touched us, and who he was. We decided on getting his foot prints, and as I designed my tattoo, I chose have his feet being showered in falling cherry blossoms. Very fitting I think. Cherry blossoms remind us of the fragility and transience of life. Everett's life is a perfect example of this. He was born, he was beautiful and breath taking and then he was gone. His life was like a cherry blossom, amazing, awe inspiring, and painfully short.

Here's my tattoo, little life sized feet, and gently falling cherry blossoms and petals. Picture them falling from the tree to the ground, their brief time to shine is over, but everyone always remembers how beautiful cherry blossoms are. People are drawn to them, they visit orchards filled with flowering cherry trees, artists paint them, photographers take pictures of them, tattoo artists have tattooed many with their small and lovely flowers. It would appear that cherry blossoms are universally beautiful and widely loved. So, I don't mind likening my baby to them one bit.


Here are some pictures I took of my tree yesterday. I took dozens, up close, far away, any way you look at it, they're just plain beautiful. I may frame one or two of these to hang on a wall. Maybe they'll keep us mindful that life is short and sweet, its beautiful while we have it, but soon enough, its gone (like anyone living in MY house needs reminding of how fleeting life is).




Also, maybe they can remind us of something else, about seasons of life. Sure, cherry blossoms wilt and die and fall to the ground, the tree becomes plain and average, and in the winter its darn right ugly with sharp black branches in awkward angles, but, spring comes again. After the harsh winter passes, spring brings buds back to this tree, and before we know it, its full of amazing blooms, thick and clustered and plentiful. Just like my gorgeous cherry tree, life has seasons of ugly and average, of discontent and pain, but, sure enough, spring comes again and beauty fills our lives, happiness, joy and contentment come back around. Life cycles through these seasons over and over, some are longer then others, some shorter, but we can always rest assured that winters of grief and discontent will be replaced with springtimes full of blessings and joy, we just need to be patient and wait.

Katie

My Ministry?

I posted this blog entry on my grief blog, which you are welcome to read, on November 23rd 2009, and I think it has some relevance now, to this mission of ours and why we need to do it. Here it is, thanks for reading:

Seeking answers.....

The instant Everett died, and we held him in our arms, and marveled over his beautiful face and his incredible fight, we wondered why.

Why?

What sort of world do we live in, where seemingly perfect new born babies die from hidden birth defects? What sort of God allows such suffering and heart break? We wondered this intensely then. And when wondering and searching brought forth no answers, we were frustrated, and angry, and turned our backs on God, who we imagined could not, or would not help us and our baby.

When our grief lessened in intensity and our anger waned, a tiny opening was made for Christs love and His peace to enter our lives. And we were immediately comforted. Life was never been the same. We have been changed and for the better and we see our loss and our grief with new eyes.

At the time, we felt abandoned by God. We had made it up in our minds that God had either decided against helping Everett, or that he couldn't help him, and we were lost and angry and in the midst of despair so deep we couldn't see clearly.

And then one day it cleared. And, I can only speak for myself, but I felt driven to find our more about God and His love and comfort and mercy. And as soon as I was receptive to it, I had it. Comfort after months of agony.

We found a great church with a fabulous community and jumped in with both feet and open hearts and the blessings just kept coming.

The pain is still there, and it flares up from time to time, especially at this time of year, but His comfort quickly follows. Because we know this:

Lamentations 3:31-33

31 For men are not cast off
by the Lord forever.

32 Though he brings grief, he will show compassion,
so great is his unfailing love.

33 For he does not willingly bring affliction
or grief to the children of men.

He does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men.

He didn't do it.

He didn't want it.

He didn't allow it.

It happened.

And though we won't ever really and truly understand why, the Bible offers up this explanation...

John 9:2-3
2 His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”
3 “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.

THIS happened, so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.

In Everett's life.

Everett was born with a heart so afflicted it could not be healed by all of our amazing technology, so that God's work could be displayed through his life.

He died so that the good of God could be demonstrated through his life.

Everett's 20 day life, and our heart break, happened so that something God could be done or achieved in God's name.

So, does this then mean that grief is to be my ministry?

I'm living in a perpetual state of grief over Everett and what should have been. It waxes and wanes but the pain is always there. And it happened to him, and to us, so that we could demonstrate God's good works through our experience? If this is true, which I don't doubt it is, then I have a job to do. Everett has done all he can and the rest is up to us. To show the world that it has worked for our good, that comfort came with the pain and that good has followed the bad, and the God has been at work in this.

An interesting ministry indeed.

Katie